


MCYT Oneshots/Requests

by theteaandbiscuits



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brothers, Camping, Caring Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dystopia, Fainting, Family, Family Fluff, Forgetful Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hearing Voices, Hot Chocolate, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lonely Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Ranboo Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Has Panic Attacks (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Sick Character, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Trauma, Walks In The Park, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:13:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28552914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theteaandbiscuits/pseuds/theteaandbiscuits
Summary: Simply a place to dump all the strange little ideas I get that can't really stand on their own.I write basically anything: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, family dynamicsContains all your favourite mcytbers and headcanons!!!Request status: Closed :(Requests in queue: 6Requests completed: 6
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu/Wilbur Soot, Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 81
Kudos: 439





	1. SBI Techno Angst

**Author's Note:**

> I will name chapters the characters/relationships that it will be, the summaries will include what basically happens, and the chapter notes will include the request, any content warnings or the such.  
> Requests will average around 2k words.  
> I am usually comfortable with most things, but I will not write:  
> Smut  
> Any ships with minors  
> Any characters I don't know
> 
> Other than that, I will probably write anything within reason, so just comment it down below and I'll tell you whether or not I'm okay with it. Most likely I will be! Have fun!!
> 
> Here's a contents for y'alls convenience  
> Chapter one: SBI Techno angst - Phil finds a piglin hybrid in a secret underground fight club and promptly takes him home and gives him family hugs in a massive pillow fort with hot cocoa.  
> Chapter two: Tommy & Techno Ageswap - Tommy finds a teenage Techno living under his wooden bungalow and couldn't feel more conflicted.  
> Chapter three: Techno & Phil Hurt/Comfort - Techno has a bad day and the voices get to him. Thankfully, Phil is there to help him out.  
> Chapter four: SBI (includes Dream/Techno + Wilbur/Niki) - Techno and Wilbur introduce their partners to the family. Chaos ensues.  
> Chapter five: Wilbur Angst - Wilbur has trouble dealing with the hate comments and calls up Jschlatt.  
> Chapter six: Techno & Phil Fluff - Phil has a stressful day and Techno offers to preen his wings.  
> Chapter seven: Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo Dystopian AU - Tommy and Tubbo stumble upon a strange man in the forest.  
> Chapter eight: Ranboo & Techno Fluff - Ranboo is ill and Techno takes care of him.  
> Chapter nine: Ranboo Angst - Ranboo remembers something and has a panic attack.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil finds a piglin hybrid in a secret underground fight club and promptly takes him home and gives him family hugs in a massive pillow fort with hot cocoa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not a request I just wanted to write something sad.  
> CW: heavily implied child abuse/neglect

Hybrids were very rare, ever since the kingdom hunted them to near extinction. Phil only knew one hybrid, and he was the reason that Philza was in this strange situation.

The ram hybrid known as JSchlatt had told Phil about this ‘shady underground fighting club’ and how they ‘might be using a hybrid to fight against’. The very thought of it made Phil’s stomach turn and flip inside him, or maybe that was the thick cigar smoke that hung over his head in the small room like some ominous fog. It was lit up badly as well, the dim lanterns that hung from crusty old wooden beams were nowhere near enough to make out most of the faces of these barbarians. Maybe that was for a reason, Phil wondered. 

Time dragged on, and no one noticed the new figure dressed in shabby brown robes who sat gently sipping his ale. Phil had ditched his usual clothing for something less distinctive, as he often did when he went on investigations like this one, since no one really remembers the guy in a brown coat, but people do remember the blonde dude in green with a bucket hat. 

It seemed to take forever, but something finally happened. A man dressed nicely enough appeared and began talking to a few tough warrior looking guys, and Phil was only  _ slightly _ eavesdropping them. 

“Heard you got a hybrid here.” one of the guys said.

Phil took a long sip from his ale, finishing the last mouthful then wandering over to the four men who were talking amongst each other.

Smart looking guy shifted slightly, and smirked, “Yeah, it’s a piglin hybrid. No one has managed to kill it yet, surprisingly. Whenever we bring hybrids in they normally get beaten by a week or so.”

One of the other warrior guys started to speak, before Phil cut him off.

“Someone told me about an unbeatable hybrid that they have here.” he said, in a practiced accent, “I’d rather like to see it in action. I’m willing to give you a large sum of money in exchange.” 

The warrior guys turned to look at him, and the smart looking man gave him an incredulous look.

“Why should I trust a man like you?” The smart guy retorted, disgust prevalent in his tone.

Phil pulled down his hood to reveal his face, since he wasn’t known in this town and he wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon, “I have got money as long as you’ve got a piglin hybrid.” he patted his pockets, giving a little jingle as if to prove it.

The guy raised his eyebrows, but still led Phil through a side door and down some steps, into an even dingier basement. It had stone walls held up by ancient wooden beams and a hard floor made of stone as well, and held barrels of what was most likely ale. There was a good selection of wines as well, but the man continued to lead him through the cellar and into an odd looking doorway.

A clink of keys and the dull click of a lock turning, and the door was opened into what Phil could only describe as a pit. It was similar in style to the rest of the basement, but instead they were standing on a balcony that overlooked a small, but probably around two metre deep, pit. 

In the pit was a boy. He looked like he was sleeping, curled up in one of the corners in a mess of strange clothing and thin limbs.

“Get up, pig.” The voice of the stranger echoed through the cellar. Phil was startled, but the boy stood up without a second's hesitation, “This is the hybrid, it’s a little weak looking, but I promise you that it is the one you heard of.”

Phil was disgusted. The thought of someone using a hybrid as a fighting tool was enough to send him reeling, but a child? Lord forgive what he was going to do to this man. Probably gut him, then hang it out over the streets for the world to watch rot and die. 

He got rid of the uncomfortably violent thoughts, and guided his short-circuiting mind back to the present. 

The smartly dressed man was babbling away about the rareness of hybrids or something of the like, then he turned to Phil and smirked, “So what do you have that you are willing to barter with?”

Phil pulled his leather pouch from his belt and laid it on one of the benches that surrounded the pit. Out of it spilled gems of his own hard work, the bundle brimming with diamonds, lapis and other rare ores. It was quickly snatched by the other man, his eyes wide in awe.

“You can take the thing, I’m happy with that. Where the hell did you even find all these!” he mumbled, and Phil headed down to the small opening in the fence that surrounded the pit, hoping that the man would choke and die in his sleep. 

The boy took a defensive stance, obviously assuming that Philza was there to fight him like every other person.

“Hey! Piglin! Be good for him, or I will punish you!” shouted the man, admiring a particularly large chunk of gold.

The fear in those deep, crimson eyes was painful to witness, and Phil silently promised to himself and the boy that he would never have to be afraid like that again.

“Come here, I don’t want to fight you. I’m taking you away.” he said, knowing that if he was too kind it would seem suspicious, although the man seemed too engrossed in his marvelling at Phil’s riches to even notice he’d spoken.

Shaking, the boy took a few clumsy steps forward, then took Phil’s outstretched hand with surprising strength. He looked from their hands to Phil’s face, then the fear seemed to dim a little.

He smiled, leading the boy up the stairs, “It’s okay, just follow me.” he continued out of the room, only to be tapped on the shoulder by the man.

“Take it out the back way, I don’t want anyone seeing you with it. You’ll become a target.” he whispered, pointing to a wooden hatch in the pit room, “I’ll get the ladder.” 

For the whole time, the boy had been silent. It was either that he couldn’t speak their language, or he was too scared. Neither of them seemed like good options, honestly. 

Once out in the open, Phil wrapped the hybrid boy in one of his brown cloaks and led him towards where he knew his horse would be waiting.

“It’s okay now, you’re safe here.” he kept murmuring, “That man can’t hurt you or shout at you any longer.” 

By the time they reached his horse, the young boy had stopped shaking and his breathing was calm. The ride was uneventful, and after around an hour on horseback Phil finally made it back to his two sons.

“What is it?” Tommy asked softly, peering over to the lump of blankets and pillows on the couch.

“I don’t know…” Wilbur replied thoughtfully, pressing his thumb to his chin.

Phil came up behind them, placing two hot cocoa drinks down on the table they were ducked under, laughing at their silly antics. He had one more hot cocoa left, and that was for the subject of all the attention in the household currently: the piglin hybrid.

“Hey… erm, I don’t know your name-” Phil began, before a quiet, muffled voice interrupted him.

“Technoblade.”

He laughed softly, then started over, “Technoblade, I have some hot cocoa for you.”

A cushion moved slightly from the mountain, revealing two little red eyes and a slightly turned up nose, with two little tusks pointing out from his mouth. He sniffed the hot drink curiously, then moved a few more cushions and blankets to take it into his little den of soft.

“Is there room for me in your pillow fort, Technoblade?” a voice asked from beside him. It was young Tommy, who jumped up onto the couch and snuggled up to what would soon be known as his new brother.

“Techno, this is your new little brother, Tommy. The other one hiding behind the table is Wilbur. Both of them are very kind and caring like me, and both of them would be happy to snuggle with you in a pillow fort with hot cocoa.” Phil said, smiling at his new son.

Techno began to speak, “T-thank you, I’ve never really had, erm, this before.” he let a weak smile don his face, “They had me in there for a few months, I think. Before that I lived with my parents in the Nether, but I think they’re gone now.” he recalled, innocence and lack of knowledge prevalent as he described how the humans had ‘visited’ the castle and how his human mother and piglin father had surrendered him to the soldiers. It was rather harrowing, knowing that the humans were all responsible for this young boy’s suffering.

“Well Philza is a great father.” Wilbur announced proudly, “And I’m sure that he will look after you.” he snuggled up to Techno, smiling, “And so will we. Right Tommy?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” 


	2. Tommy & Techno Ageswap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU in which most things are the same, except Tommy and Techno's ages are swapped.  
> Teenager Technoblade runs from his exile and his tormentor, Dream, and comes across his older brother living in a shabby house in the middle of nowhere.  
> Tommy is trying to sleep and keeps hearing cries of pain coming from under his house. When he goes to investigate, he couldn't feel more conflicted about what he finds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request by the wonderful 'far2late' who asked for:  
> "ageswapped techno and tommy where techno is exiled instead of tommy and he finds techno in his little wooden cabin"  
> on 04 Jan.  
> They have a fic that is similar to this, I read it (thats why this is a little late lmao) and it's amazing! You should go and check them out, find them in the comments, and go give them *all* the kudos you have.  
> i wrote this instead of doing home school work  
> Also, I hope this is okay! I changed it up a little, since I didn't want to just be leeching off the other work, so there's a little bit of divergence in the story, but the concept is there. I wrote it from Tommy's POV as well!
> 
> CW: None really except slight mention of wounds/blood but nothing graphic

It started off with little things, like a few golden apples going missing here, or a healing potion disappearing there, but after a week or so more of Tommy’s supplies began to go missing. The last straw was when Wilbur’s old leather coat wasn’t hanging on the hook that Tommy had laid it to rest on after that fateful day.

There was a thief, someone in the SMP was stealing his stuff and Tommy wasn’t going to stand for it. He asked his good friend Tubbo, the president, just in case he was borrowing some supplies from him. If so, Tommy would probably be okay with everything, but not Wilbur’s coat. That was the only thing he had left of his brother, his  _ real  _ brother, not some airheaded ghost. 

Tubbo had looked confused, then his face twisted in uncomfortableness and pity when Tommy had asked him. His friend wouldn’t lie to him, and Tommy knew him well enough to know when he was, so Tubbo was out of the picture. 

He had asked all around the SMP, even asking people who he was, though he would never admit it, afraid of. This included Dream, who had a few questions of his own regarding Tommy’s youngest brother Technoblade. Apparently the stubborn teen had gone missing from his exile, and Dream seemed to be barely holding back his concern, anger and, though slight, fear. 

The fact that Techno, his own brother, incited fear into the hearts of people as cold and indifferent as Dream, as powerful as Dream, was enough to make Tommy proud. Although that pride was tainted with hard headed jealousy and even hate. From fourteen, Techno had achieved things that Tommy and Wilbur, even in their twenties, could only dream of. He had won tournaments, he had even beaten Dream. A kid, beating the most renown fighter in the whole world. 

But deep down, Tommy was proud. So when he heard the sounds of someone in pain beneath his own floorboards, he couldn’t feel more conflicted about what he found.

Tommy finished cleaning up the quaint bungalow for the night, flopping into his bed out of exhaustion. Farming everything he ate was, unsurprisingly, tiresome. Especially in the freezing tundra, there was few crops hardy enough to survive here, so Tommy had resorted to constructing a greenhouse with a controllable climate.

He had found several more potions and golden apples had gone from his chests, only sighing at the now inevitable. Tommy had had a long day, and he was ready to go to sleep, but the universe seemed to say no, based on the inhuman sounds coming from beneath his floorboards. It sounded like there was a bloody spawner that just  _ appeared  _ under his house. 

“Well,” he said to himself, hesitantly pulling out of bed, “I ain’t sleepin’ ‘till I go see what’s down there.” He grabbed his armor, a pick to break through the stone and an axe to banish whatever lay under his home. Trudging over to his supplies, he grabbed some spare torches and began to dig through the stone part of his floor.

Immediately, he was dropped down into a shabby looking base. There was hardly any headspace and few utilities scattered carelessly around. It was dark, damp and painfully humid, a far cry from the dry cold of the surface. It reminded Tommy of the Pogtopia ravine, only more despair ridden.

“Is anyone down here?” he shouted, unnerved by the apparent abandoned base that had probably been down here the whole time.

There was a noise, similar to that of the ones that were keeping him from sleep, only more restrained and less muffled. It was a person, Tommy was sure of it. 

There were his golden apples, stacked in a chest, along with some empty glass bottles.

At least they were being used, Tommy thought.

The person cried out again, and he pinpointed where it was coming from. There was a small tunnel that led down towards what was most likely a mine that he reluctantly peered down into.

There was a person. 

Wrapped in brown, patchwork leather that seemed much too large for them, covered in grime and doused in a fair helping of blood, and holding a battered diamond sword, they turned to look up at him.

“Who are you?” Tommy called out, voice wavering only slightly, “Why the hell are you underneath my house?”

They turned to reveal shockingly  _ pink  _ hair. It was dulled slightly by a film of filth, but still bright, bloody, horrifying  _ pink.  _ Tommy’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Tommy?” the other person asked quietly, usual confidence non-existent, but his deep monotone still constant and tired as ever.

His breath hitched, realization burning through his already thrumming skull, “Techno…” it was his little brother. 

Rushing down the steps to his brother, Tommy felt himself switch into some kind of autopilot, his brain too caught up in the revelation that Technoblade, the almighty blood god, his youngest brother, had been living, dying, underneath his home.

The teen laughs hollowly, “You can be mad at me now.” he sounds so defeated, “I’ll leave, if you want.”

Tommy grabs Techno, holding him like he might turn to dust in his hands, not minding the wounds that dappled his pale skin in bloody, crimson craters. 

“No, no. I’m not mad, not at you.” his mind drifted back to the person who he knew was to blame for the wretched state of his younger brother. There was a wooden mask with a lazily scrawled smile, an unchanging smile, unnerving and uncaring. He was dressing in green, but covered in red. Tommy had stolen all three of his lives.

He wasn’t mad. No, he was furious.

Tommy carried the young boy in his arms, feeling the hatred and jealousy bubble up again. He could probably finish the boy off, rid of the violence, the chaos that the blood god’s presence incited. 

But one look at the tired, dark crimson eyes and the hollow, malnourished cheeks of his teen brother was enough to convince him. 

Killing him, right now, would only make things worse.

Tommy didn’t need any more enemies, and he definitely didn’t want the Blade as an enemy. 

Once he made it out of the mines and climbed back out into his home, Tommy realised how  _ tired  _ he was. He did not have the energy to look after a dying teenager, much less look after Technoblade. Sighing, he set Techno down on the spare bed, cringing as the clean sheets were drenched in grit and blood.

“Will you be alright if I give you a healing pot?” Tommy asked, rummaging through his potions chest.

Techno took a long, shuddering breath, “Yeah, but imma pass out and sleep for 12 hours after that.” He closed his eyes and shuffled up a little to sit on his elbows, accepting the potion.

“As long as you don’t fucking die on me, that’s okay. I am not in the right mindset to wake up and find my baby brother’s bloody corpse laying next to me.” Tommy tipped the redish pink liquid and his little brother scowled at him. Once the full potion had been drained, Techno collapsed onto the crude bed.

“I’m not a,” he grimaced, clearly trying to fight off the fatigue that was often paired with a healing potion, “...not a kid.” He let a fond smile climb on to his face. Techno’s eyes finally fluttered shut, and Tommy was left all alone in his thoughts once more. 

Once more, he collapsed onto the bed, hoping to wake up from this stupid dream and tell Tubbo about how weird it was.

Tommy cracked his eyes open, immediately assaulted by the bright morning sun that filtered relentlessly through his makeshift windows. 

“Weird ass dream…” he muttered, stretching out his limbs and pushing the thick blankets aside.

A deep, monotone voice startled him, “What did you dream about?” 

“What the shit? It was real!?” he exclaimed, whipping his head round to face the figure that was perched on the spare bed, wrapping some kind of bandage around his torso. He was dressed in some of  _ Tommy’s  _ trousers, and had a clean dress shirt that he recognised as Techno’s shirts. His pink hair was cleaner than it had been last night, signifying that the boy had probably been awake for a while, long enough to shower and change.

“How long have you been awake?” Tommy asked accusatively, “Thought you was gonna sleep for twelve hours?” he stood up, towering over his younger brother.

“I did.” Techno said simply, not looking up from his bandage, “You slept for longer.”

Tommy panicked, how long had he been asleep for? What was Tubbo thinking? Was he worried about him? 

Techno laughed quietly, “It’s almost midday, if you were wondering.” there was something in his tone, some kind of hurt, some type of despair. 

“Now you’re awake, and not dying, I need to know something.” Tommy paced around his small home, “Why the fuck were you living under my house?” he stopped pacing, and stalked over to the frozen still Techno, “Why did you take Wil’s coat?” he lowered his voice, trying to harness the iciness that Wilbur would speak to Dream, and occasionally him, with. 

“Hiding from Dream.” Techno replied meekly.

Tommy felt the familiar anger boil over the unfamiliar feelings, feelings like pity and empathy, and harnessed it; “Are you fucking scared of him? The man you beat?” he grabbed his brother’s shoulders, “You are stronger than him.”

Techno didn’t look up, his head hung and pink hair fell like a damned curtain around his face, “Yes, I am.” he grimaced, “But Dream is more powerful.”

Tommy felt ill to his stomach. It was true, Dream had power, he had allies that had power, and he had respect. The only thing Techno had was his skill. It put everything into its dizzying perspective. 

He sat down, removing his hands from his little brother’s shoulders, still dumbstruck. 

They sat in suffocating silence, Techno refusing to meet his eyes and Tommy lost in thought. 

“Why did you take Wilbur’s jacket?” Tommy asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.

Techno sighed, returning to bandaging his injured side, “Was cold.” he took another deep breath, then said, “An’ I miss him.”

Grief gripped the room, digging its ugly claws into the wounds of the two young men, prying open memories that had been locked away, ignored, for too long and left to fester like an infected wound. 

Tommy laughed coldly, “He was such a moron. Such a self-sacrificing moron.” he buried his head in his hands, raking his fingernails through his scalp, “I just can’t believe that the ghost is him.”

“He’s not.” Techno interrupted, tone laced in thinly veiled grief borne anger.

“So!” Tommy announced, getting up to find some water and food, “How was exile?” He grabbed a bucket and some steak from the supplies chest.

Techno went silent for a long moment, finishing off the bandage and tying it tightly, “Dream was an annoying bitch.” The swear felt alien coming out his little brother’s mouth, since he usually used longer words the angrier he got. Underneath the well built mask of indifference that Techno often wore, hatred and betrayal flashed along with a feisty blend of utter loneliness and grief. There seemed to be conflict within his teen brother, something fighting itself. It wasn’t unheard of, Technoblade would sometimes be found talking, arguing, with himself. 

“Yeah…” Tommy muttered, “Do you want some water?” he asked, holding up the empty bucket. The pink haired boy nodded slowly, then picked up his shirt and slipped it on, carefully buttoning it up. 

Tommy strolled out of the house, the cold air giving him a fresh breath of release from the toxic tension that lingered inside. He scooped up some of the fresh snow from the top, being mindful as to not grab any old snow. Once the bucket was packed tightly with snow, he headed back inside, where Techno was munching on another golden apple.

“I have a limited supply of those, you know.” he said, placing the snow bucket about the fire.

Techno made a grunt, then swallowed his mouthful and said, “And I have a limited time I can go without starving to death.” taking another large mouthful, the boy got up to grab Wilbur’s coat that was left strewn over the spare bed. He pulled it on, expression relaxing once the leather was wrapped around him.

There was another long silence, though this time it was less tense.

“Why are you here?” Techno asked from his seat on the spare bed.

Tommy scowled at him from the fireplace, “What do mean, Blade?” He pulled the now melted water from the fireplace and dropped some herbs into it, placing it back on the fire.

“I mean, why aren’t you back in L’Manberg with Tubbo. Why are you in some random tundra?” He asked, wandering over to peek at the herbal tea that was boiling up on the fireplace. 

Tommy sighed. He really didn’t want to have to mention this to his youngest brother, but the boy was bloody stubborn, and terrifying, and if he wanted to know something he would get it out of you. 

“I burnt Dream’s friend’s house down with Ranboo and took all the blame.” He stated simply, hoping it would be enough to shut up Techno for a while. Infact, it wasn’t, because the boy was now shaking with breathless chuckles and cackles.

He brought a hand to his forehead, “It’s not that funny, good god, get a grip man.” 

Tommy left Techno to his laughing fit, and removed the tea from the fire, placing it in a wooden bowl to cool down before he put it into the glass bottles to prevent them from shattering.

The teen took the tea with a tired, but grateful smile. 

“Hey Tommy?” Techno asked, then took a long sip from the herbal tea. Tommy made a grunt of acknowledgement.

Techno drew in a long breath, before speaking.

“Will you hide me from Dream?”

“Of course.” Tommy said, sadly, “That makes two of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was okay!  
> also i gave in and read heat waves- like i loved glass animals before but now i can't stop listening to heat waves- this is concerning.  
> comments literally give me life pleaase comment i need my dopamine fix


	3. Techno & Phil Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in a foster family AU, Techno has a particularly bad day and the voices start to get to him. Thankfully, Phil is there to help him out. (also Tubbo, Eret and Niki come in somewhere as well)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Technoblade is becoming overwhelmed with the voices and Philza helps him out."  
> (requested by Strangest_Flower on 04 Jan)  
> Well I was given freedom with what story there should be behind it, and of course I went and wrote a Foster family AU. I love them, I was obsessed from the moment I read 'Problem Child' by Mental_Kitten. So I hope it's okay that I went and set it in this AU lol.   
> Sorry that this is slightly under 2k words! I tried my best, but I feel like it's fine at this length.
> 
> CW: None for this chapter either except mentions of hearing voices

When Phil got home from work the household was uncharacteristically quiet. Usually Tommy and Techno would be arguing about something, or Wilbur would be playing guitar, but today the Watson home was silent. Phil had learnt to suspect silence, it meant that the boys were probably up to something. So, like any good father would, he went round all of the rooms to check on them. 

In Wil’s room he found a note that read something about Schlatt and his phone being broken so he couldn’t text. That explains the absence of one, but the other two still remained a mystery.

The note about Wilbur’s broken phone reminded him to check his, and on it there were a couple of texts from Tommy explaining how Tubbo, Niki and Eret had ‘kidnapped’ him and bought him ice cream. Somehow he thought that it might not have been  _ just  _ as Tommy worded it, but that was just a hunch. 

Last was Techno, the most private and closed off of his boys. Phil made sure to knock on the door of his room, since he wanted to make it apparent to Techno that the room was his and that he deserved a private space. It was a simple thing, but something that the foster system often didn’t consider.

“Techno? Are you in there?” he asked when his knock was met with silence. There was a long, shaky breath from inside and Phil’s fatherly instincts flared up, “I’m going to come in, say so if you don’t want me to.” he hesitated, and when met with silence once more, the door of Techno’s room was slowly pushed open. 

Inside, Phil was met with the young man curled up on his bed, fingers curled into his long, pink hair and pulling on it, hard. There were tears, and Techno never cried, that stained his cheeks and pooled on the pillow that he was curled around. All in all, a sorry sight.

He rushed to his side, taking care to not touch him; Phil knew Techno wasn’t the greatest fan of touch, although to his surprise the young man crawled into his lap and rested his head on Phil’s shoulder. He adapted quickly, wrapping two arms around the pink haired boy and gently rubbing small circles into the small of his back.

After a few minutes, Techno finally spoke up, “It’s the voices, Phil.” he croaked, barely audible. Phil’s heart lurched, primal fear immediately beaten down by the love of his son. Truth be told, when Techno first told him of the voices that plagued his nights, and sometimes days, Phil had been secretly terrified. Hearing voices was portrayed as a crazy person thing in his mind back then, something that happened to only people in straightjackets and padded cells. But when he got to know the young boy, he realized that Techno was far from insane. Sure, it was often problematic when the voices began to pipe up and demand blood, betrayal and chaos, but Techno knew how to deal with them and when to ask for help.

Well, at least that was what Phil hoped.

He turned his attention to the weeping young man in his arms, and said to him, “What do they want today?” 

“There was a boy at school…” he murmured, voice still shaky, “He threatened to hurt Wil, so I beat him up.” his usual monotone seemed even colder and more detached than usual.

Phil hugged him tighter, “Techno, you know that’s not the way to sort out a situation like that.”

The young man shrugged, or tried to, “Violence is the only universal language. And don’t tell me to just ‘talk to the teachers’, most of them do fuck all about it.”

Phil laughed unexpectedly, causing Techno to chuckle slightly as well. 

They stayed like that for a little while, both silent and embracing each other. 

After what could’ve been an hour or five minutes, Techno began to cry again, this time more violently with little squeaks of suppressed sobbing. It hurt Phil to witness, but he knew that just being there would do so much for the young man in this moment. 

Techno spoke quietly, “Shut up, leave me alone, go away.” Phil worried for a second that the words might have been directed at him, until he recognised the tone with which Techno spoke them as the way he spoke to the voices.

“It’s okay, Techno. It’s me, Phil, your dad. I’m here for you.” he whispered, gently running one of his hands through the long, tangled, pink hair.

The young man shook under his hands, “I… I don’t want to hurt you!” he quietly screamed with such pain that it made Phil want to hold him closer, as if it would ward off the voices that taunted his son. 

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, “I know that you won’t, you are so much stronger in mind than them.” The gentle reassurance was enough to get Techno to calm his hyperventilation slightly. 

He felt so helpless right now, watching his own son being bullied by something Phil couldn’t comprehend, much less banish. The lack of being able to empathise stole his ability to know what words were right, leaving it up to his instincts and imagination to conjure reassuring words. 

It took another long hug to calm Techno down, but eventually he got to a state in which Phil felt comfortable to ask him what had happened.

“What did they say to you?” Phil asked softly.

Techno’s breath hitched, then he held it for a moment, before answering; “Told me to hurt you. Told me you were a nuisance ‘n’ stopped me from reaching my full potential.” he mumbled, a tone in which denial and hatred resided. 

He hummed, words not feeling entirely necessary for the tender moment.

“I don’t think that. I’m happiest with you.”

“I know.” Phil said, placing the now calm young man by his side and wrapping a single arm around him, “Do you remember why you got overwhelmed?” This wasn’t a common occurrence, thankfully, though fights at school sadly were, however it was getting better. 

Techno sighed deeply, “Where I would normally have one or two brothers to distract me, I was alone today. It was a combination of the voices being particularly loud today, the fight and being home alone.” he said, sounding like he was reading from a script, the words cold and inhuman.

“Do you want me to talk to them about it?” Phil asked, hoping for a yes for the sake of Techno’s wellbeing, but expecting a no. The gentle sensation of a head shaking next to him confirmed his beliefs.

Just as he was about to get up and leave, a crash echoed through the house, announcing the arrival of probably Tommy guessing by the way the door was flung open and smacked against the wall. 

He laughed, “Looks like Tommy’s home.” His suspicions were confirmed by the shouts of Tommy, Tubbo and Eret. Niki was probably there as well, but the girl was so sweet that she was probably playing mediator between the dynamic trio instead of shouting. 

Techno looked content instead of the usual slight grumpy pout that rested on his face whenever Tommy arrived with a whole load of people. 

“Want to go down?” he asked, standing up from the bed..

Techno smiled a little, “I- yeah. Just let me go clean up, I’ll be down in a minute.” he stood up, taller than Phil, even when he was hunched over slightly. The young man scurried off to the bathroom and Phil sauntered down the stairs to greet the visitors. 

“Phil!” Eret cried out, being the first to notice him coming down the stairs, “Guys, he’s upstairs!” They turned to the direction of the living room, where the other kids were searching for him presumably. A chorus of shouts and excited cries assaulted him as the kids ran through the corridor to meet with Eret, Tommy leading Tubbo and Niki walking behind them.

Phil listened to what Eret was saying instead of the verbal torrent of nonsense that Tommy was spewing, “Tommy wants us to camp in your garden. Says it’ll be fun, but we don’t know if we’re allowed.”

He considered it, thinking of his two other boys, and deciding that as long as Niki could keep them under control and out of the house, then it wouldn’t be too disruptive. It was a Friday, so there were no worries about having school the next morning, and Phil didn’t mind cooking some extra.

“Sure you can, as long as you have some extra tents and keep those two under control.” he smiled, watching the range of reactions from the gaggle of teenagers. Tommy looked smug mostly, Tubbo looked delighted out of his mind and both Eret and Niki looked happily surprised. 

The thudding of socked feet on wooden stairs caused him to spin around and see Techno, frozen in slight fear a few steps above Phil.

“Techno!” Tommy shouted, running past Phil to awkwardly hug his much taller brother from the step below him, “Are you okay after that fight today?” he pulled away to look up at his brother.

He nodded, still slightly shell shocked. The guests all had a varying amount of fear blended into their expressions when met with Techno, who just kind of stood on the stairs.

“Hey guys.” Techno said, monotone not wavering a single bit, “Don’t worry, I won’t just suddenly start attacking you, jeez.” he sounded slightly dejected, when Eret spoke up. 

“Why did you do it?” they asked, causing the whole household to quieten.

“You fuck with my family, you fuck with me.” Techno growled, with slight anger blended with his tone, “The guy was going to hurt Wilbur.”

“Fair enough.” Eret chuckled, turning to look over at their two siblings who were ushering Tommy out into the garden, “I know I would do the same.” They offered Techno a fond smile, then whipped the pair of sunglasses that they kept hanging off of their collar out and perched them on their nose, “See ya, Blade.”

Phil heard a long sigh of relief from behind him as Eret followed the others out the door.

“What do you want for tea?” he asked, craning his neck to look at his son behind him.

Techno had a far off look on his face, then very seriously replied, “Baked potatoes and chilli.” before lumbering up the stairs and retreating to his room.

On any other day, Phil would have said no, but given the current circumstances, baked potatoes sounded manageable, and Techno surely deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed that! Feel free to drop a request down below, or just a comment. I love doing these, it really helps to stretch my imagination and write things I wouldn't normally.  
> Also, I am happy to write requests about Hermitcraft SMP, I watch pretty much all the hermits and I love all of them lmao, so feel free to drop a HC related request :)


	4. SBI (includes Dream/Techno + Wilbur/Niki)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno and Wilbur introduce their partners to Phil and Tommy. Chaos ensues in the form of Phil definitely not crying and Tommy being a stereotypical younger brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wilbur or Techno bring their significant other(s) to meet the family. Any ship you want. I think itd be cute."  
> (requested by Pan2003 on 04 Jan)  
> Okay so I went ahead and did both at the same time because it misread the request :| But I still hope this is okay lmao. I also hit a bit of writers block in the middle of writing this, so sorry about the wait or if anything seems a bit off.  
> Also this: ~*~ signifies a change in POV (it switches between wil and techno)
> 
> CW: Romantic Shipping

Wilbur wasn’t nervous. He was fine. Taking a quick glance over to Niki, he decided that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Screw nervous, he was terrified. 

It had all begun when Wilbur decided that he needed to tell Phil about Niki. Him and Niki had been dating for no longer than a month, and it was getting a bit too much to keep under wraps. He didn’t know why he didn’t just tell Phil when they started dating, maybe it was that the school didn’t know yet, maybe it was that he feared it wouldn’t work out.

So, like any good brother, he made a bet with Technoblade, who had started dating the most popular boy at school not too long after Wil had gotten with Niki. Neither of them had told Phil, and obviously they had to, so the two made a little bet. It relied on who got the highest grade in the upcoming Physics test, one of the subjects that they were both fairly the same at, and the rules were if Techno won then Wilbur had to introduce Phil to his girlfriend on his own, but if Wilbur won then Techno had to join him with his boyfriend. He had to do it whether he won or not, but having his awkward older brother with him meant that he would only get half of the attention from Phil. 

The awkward older brother in question was looking ten times more nervous than Wilbur felt, and knowing Techno and his impermeable mask that kept all emotions at bay, that meant he probably felt absolutely petrified. 

He felt one of his hands being squeezed, then looked over to Niki, who smiled at him and said, “Poor Techno. He looks like he’s going to faint.” her unlimited kindness was truly wonderful in Wilbur’s opinion, she was genuinely the sweetest person he’d ever met.

“Well I really hope he manages to stay upright, we made a deal and if he doesn’t stay conscious then we’ll have to call this off and it’ll be annoying and awkward.” he said sarcastically, glancing back over to Techno, who had Dream basically hanging off of him and now wore a gentle smile. Wilbur, in turn, let a content smile rest on his face. His brother often wore a stoic front and rarely expressed himself, so it was fantastic to see that his new boyfriend had already begun to break down those walls.

The sound of a door opening ejected Wilbur from his thoughts and into the real world, watching as a small blonde boy opened the door and began snickering at the sight. Niki laughed gently and Wilbur gave Tommy a glare, and he could hear Techno’s awkwardness being cancelled out by Dream’s enviable social skills.

“Is this the deal you told me about?” Tommy half-whispered teasingly, leaning out of the doorway with the door only ajar, not fully open. It was a good attempt at being subtle, for Tommy anyway.

But not good enough, Wil realised, when he heard the shouts of Phil, “Tommy? Is everything alright down there? Who’s at the door?” he called.

“Yeah, ‘s cool!” Tommy cried through the door, and Wilbur cringed at his horrible acting.

The good natured laugh of Phil filled the house, “Who’s there, Tommy?” Wil could hear the smile in his father’s voice.

Tommy then grinned, large and mischievous. Wilbur didn’t like the glint in his younger brother’s eyes, usually it meant that the boy was going to carry out one of stupid, irritating plans. And carry out an irritating plan he did.

~ * ~

Techno genuinely felt like he was going to die. He had been staring at the little hole in the brickwork for what felt like hours, until Dream gently shoved him and held onto one of his arms. The touch was grounding, and Techno couldn’t express his gratefulness for his boyfriend, words wouldn’t do. So he just let a content smile rest on his face, when the gremlin child opened the front door.

He was barely aware as Phil came down, and Tommy tried to convince him that no one was at the door, but his focus finally returned when he heard his name.

“Fine, Techno and Wilbur have something to show you!” he smiled mischievously, glancing back at Techno. 

Dream gently shook his shoulders, “Hey, Techie, stop spacing out on me. I need you here to deal with Tommy.” Seriously, what did he do to deserve this man? Dream was a saint.

“Sorry, sorry,” he gently shook his head, raking a single hand through his hair, “I’m sort of back.”

Another hand joined his in raking through his hair, “It’s okay, you don’t have to force yourself.”

He felt himself lean into the gentle touch, and heard a soft chuckle from right next to him.

“Gross.” Tommy exclaimed, though he was beaming with happiness, “Who thought the almighty Technoblade would be all sappy ‘n’ shit.”

His heart dropped when he saw the slightly shorter, green clad figure appear behind Tommy.

“What’s going on, boys?” Phil asked, curiosity and concern lacing his voice. 

“Wilbur has a girlfriend.” the small blonde boy laughed like it was some kind of bad rumour, “And Technoblade has a boyfriend.”

There was a short silence, in which Techno swore he heard his heartbeat inside his head, and it was going fast. There was a pop song he had heard on the radio that went at about the same speed, what was it again? Even if he couldn’t remember the name or even the artist, the song still began to play in his head. There was a particularly catchy hook that kept looping round, minus all of the lyrics. They just sounded like noises, not words. It was very odd, but calming somehow.

“Hey, you must be Phil. I’m Dream, your son’s boyfriend.” The song stopped just in time for Dream to introduce himself to Phil, and for Techno to stumble behind him. 

The smile that Phil gave in response was relieving, and Techno let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, “That’s great! You’ve probably met those two before, I’m guessing.” Dream nodded politely, “I mean, welcome to the family, Dream!” Phil wrapped the boy in a large, fatherly hug, “You’re totally welcome in here at any time, within reason, and we will always accept and support you two as long as you make each other happy!” his father grinned at him, and Techno could see the shadows of tears forming after the little speech. It wasn’t as bad as his mind had been overthinking all of last night, Techno noted. 

~ * ~

Wilbur couldn’t believe how well this was going. Surely,  _ surely,  _ Tommy had to have set up some kind of trap? This could not be going any smoother that realistically possible. 

Although, he was yet to talk to Phil, Dream being the only one who had the nerve to break the silence, so Wil still had most of his anxiety tightly coiled up and ready to break at any time. Hopefully that meant a smile, a hug and a few happy tears, not a panic attack.

“Hey, uh, dad.” he awkwardly began, “This is Niki. We’ve been dating for a month or so.” 

“Hi!” Niki squeaked.

Silence.

More silence.

So silent it took up three lines…

“Oh my god,” Tommy cried, “Just- fucking group hug, okay?” he pulled everyone into a hug, including the panicking Techno. 

Wilbur was squished up against Niki and Dream, and then Phil was in front of them, and Techno was being forced into the hug by Tommy on the other side of Dream. Eventually, the group relaxed into it.

~ * ~

“So Dream.” Tommy smiled sweetly, “How did you meet my brother?”

Technoblade was collapsed on a couch adjacent to Dream and Tommy, exhausted from the tense interaction at the door. He was just about listening to the conversation going on next to him, but most of the words and gentle laughs from Dream just melted together into a drone of information. 

Dream was recounting the time that he first spoke to him, a wide smile stretching over his freckled face and reaching his bright green eyes, retelling the story with almost childish excitement. It was reassuring to hear his voice, it told Techno that he was safe. Without any thought, he wriggled into Dream’s side and curled up there, like some kind of cat. Now that he thought about it, Techno was rather similar to a cat. Antisocial, wouldn’t hesitate to scratch your skin off, likes hunting small animals in the forest, would trust you if you gave him food and once he did trust you he would snuggle with you at any given chance.

“Oh hi, Techno.” Dream said fondly, “Are you tired?” he wrapped an arm around Techno, who had fallen over onto his lap and was resting his head on his thigh. Tommy was probably doing some stupid expression, but Techno was too sleepy and focused on cuddling up with Dream to care. He hummed gently in response to Dream, then felt the conversation slip away as he fell asleep.

~ * ~

“Wil, I am so happy for you man.” Phil said, teary eyed, for about the tenth time. The three of them sat around the kitchen table, mugs of tea in hand and a box of tissues for Phil.

Wilbur nodded in reply, glancing over to Niki, then in the direction of the living room. Tommy was whining about something, Dream was chuckling softly and Techno couldn’t be heard.

Wilbur sighed softly, glad that he had dragged his older brother to this place with Dream. Techno, and Wilbur, would be a lot happier this way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is okay! Feel free to drop a request down below, I am now writing at lightning speed >:DD  
> Next chapter will be up soon, some non request oneshots coming your way (may contain dnf) and let me remind you once again that all comments are read, appreciated and cried over.


	5. Wilbur Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur isn't dealing very well with the hate comments, and calls his friend Schlatt at four in the morning, then goes on a walk to watch the sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Would you mind writing a Wilbur centic angst? I would prefer if it included more than just the sleepy boys, maybe something about the hate comments?"  
> (requested anonymously on 04 Jan)  
> I mean, I just kinda took this idea and ran with it. I watched a few of the videos on theweeklyslap (Jschlatt's serious/commentary channel) for reference, and I heavily recommend checking them out! Schlatt is so open and geniune in those videos, it feels like your having one of those long conversations with your cousin.   
> Anyways, I hope this is okay! It is very short, and I'm sorry about that :/
> 
> CW: None really, it's just sad

_ ‘yknow, wilbur soot seems a bit irrelevant now. tommy’s kind of better than him’ _

He closed Twitter, sighing deeply. It was very early in the morning, or late in the night, and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Which would have been somewhere around midday, which meant the only food that Wil had eaten in the last twelve hours was a banana and a packet of Quavers he found under his desk. Curious, he picked up the abandoned wrapper and found the best before date, too tired to care that he had been eating stale crisps.

He felt so tired. And lonely.

Upon the decision that he should probably talk to someone, Wilbur opened up Discord and skimmed through a few notifications. His first instinct was to message Schlatt, since he didn’t want to talk to Phil or Tommy, Techno would have no idea how to comfort someone, and anyone else would probably be asleep or busy.

_ hey _

_ call? _

Wilbur waited in tense silence, mind still caught up on thoughts of how little he mattered, and how he had peaked, and how it was only down from here on out. Within the misery, there was a sad kind of content, that he had managed to reach this point. It was fleeting and weak though, and Wil was unable to harness it.

_ why _

_ you good _

Schlatt had replied. It was slightly passive aggressive, enough to make Wilbur’s anxiety spike. He shakily typed out a response;

_ yeah just wanted to call _

He sat and fidgeted with his phone, pulling it out and popping it into the case, folding over the corners of the plastic and watching it curl back into place. There was a brief moment, then the Discord ringtone rang out of his one earphone.

“Hello?” Wilbur rasped, voice broken slightly from overuse and tiredness.

“Wilbur Soot.” Schlatt said ominously, some kind of reverb effect on his microphone. He felt a little giggle bubble in his throat, but he ended up staying silent.

After an awkward moment of quiet, Schlatt spoke again, “Wilbur, are you okay?” it sounded much more genuine, something that couldn’t often be found in the man’s voice, though it wasn’t alien.

“Yeah, I just-”

“No, no, you’re not understanding.” Schlatt interrupted, worry lining his voice, “I asked you if you were okay in a genuine way, not just as in a greeting.” there was a slight irritation there as well, though it was all well meaning. 

Wilbur sighed, leaning back in his chair, “I’m tired, Schlatt.”

Almost immediately, the other man replied, “Go to sleep.”

“You know what I mean.” Wilbur said, fatigue robbing him of any humor. 

There was a slight pause over the call. 

“It’s like, 4am in England, isn’t it?” Schlatt thought out loud, “So why are you calling me at 4am, Wilbur?”

He let the silence run for a little while, his sleep deprived brain struggling to find a response. All he could think about was how irrelevant he was, how little he mattered to these people online. Some of them even hated him. Lots of them hated him. 

“I was alone.” he finally spoke.

A sigh could be heard from the other side, and something shifted in a chair, “So you just want to talk to someone? To distract you?”

Thank the lord for this man. How was he able to guess exactly what Wilbur wanted? 

“Yeah. Just be funny or something.” he replied half heartedly. 

A low chuckle resonated over the call, “You can’t just do that. I can’t be funny when you’re over there moping. It’s just awkward when you don’t laugh.”

“Fine!” Wilbur found himself feeling a little irritated, even though he knew Schlatt meant well, “We can just talk. About stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Schlatt paused, then said, “Want to talk about twats on the internet?”

Finally, Wilbur found himself laughing freely, letting the quiet giggles fill up his echoey room and silence the thoughts for even just a moment, “Yes, Schlatt. I would.”

And they did talk about idiots on the internet. It was freeing, to be able to talk with his friends without the constant pressure of being live, without his every word being scrutinised and analysed by hundreds of thousands of people. After a while, light began to filter through his blinds, the early morning sunrise threatening to break over the horizon. It was still dark, but the glow of light blue in the west gave away that it was around 6:30am. He said goodbye to Schlatt, thanking him, and grabbed his coat and trainers, slipped his phone into his jeans pockets and headed out to watch the sun rise. 

It was one of the things that Schlatt had recommended, to go somewhere where he’d be alone and just sit and let his mind think over things. It was healthy, according to Schlatt, since the constant stream of information that is the internet leaves no room for thinking.

The streets were silent, the air cold and catching in his raw throat, but invigorating to breathe in and let the cold wash away the sick, heavy feeling that often settled in his stomach. 

He walked to the park, climbing one of the huge hills and sitting down on top so that he could watch the sun as it poked its head over the skyline.

He had only been walking for five minutes, but it was already considerably lighter and the sun had cast the small town in oranges and long shadows. Wilbur felt so free, the hate comments felt so insignificant, so small. Up here, he was truly himself, not some internet persona, not just a guy with a guitar and a video game. He was Wilbur. And Wilbur didn’t get hate comments, it was his persona. They hated his persona, not him.

Wilbur felt suddenly lighter. He felt invulnerable, like nothing could hurt him.

He sighed, blinking the spots out of his eyes from staring into the sunrise. It was nice, just to get away from it all. Schlatt was right, as per usual.

Then, out of the blue, Wilbur began to laugh. At the absurdity of what just happened, at how little he realised he cared about the hate comments. And he carried on laughing, without restraint or a single care in the world. Who cared if the random person walking their dog heard him, Wil was happy right now, and he was going to laugh out loud and cry and choke out sounds that didn’t even have a name. 

Once the sun had risen and Wilbur had regained his composure, he trekked down the hill and back to his home. He made a cup of coffee, and promised to himself that he was going to fix his sleep schedule. He wouldn’t go to sleep until later tonight, and he would wake up at the right time to pull on a jumper and watch the sunrise again.

He checked Twitter quickly, seeing the comment he had read earlier had been deleted. He found himself unable to care any less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is okay :)  
> Comment! Do it, I don't care what it is. It's author life support. I'm watching you!! >:)  
> Random song recommendation because I love music:  
> 'Gold Gold Gold - WARGASM(UK)' [on spotify]  
> Why? They scream Blood for the Blood God in the middle of it and I'm a Techno stan.


	6. Techno & Phil Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil comes home after an eventful day out and has Techno preen his wings to de-stress from the travelling. Ends with Phil and Techno both falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Techno likes to sit and preen Phils feathers when he gets stressed and it started during the war for them both to calm down and destress and its just been a tradition for Phil to come home after a hard day and sit on the floor with his wings spread and for techno to sit behind him and preen them. Nothing ship like or anything but soft friends helping each other calm down"  
> (Requested by Momo825 on 04 Jan)  
> I just love wingfics. So much. God this was self indulgent, I am such a sucker for wingfics and I just- give me any wing related prompts and I will literally love you forever. (dont feel like ya have to, but throw all of the wing related headcanons at me please I beg)  
> Also this was just fun in general. It's nice to write about Techno and Phil being friends instead of family. Hope this is okay!!

Phil really hated traveling in the Nether. There was a horrid, dry heat that hung above the lava, and it was full of tonnes of things that exist to try and kill you. Not that Phil couldn’t take them on, it was just irritating. Techno had no issue with the hell dimension, he was born in it and half piglin afterall. 

He was tired as well, and the heat didn’t do anything for his fatigue. His knees felt slightly weak as he traversed thin, rickety bridges that hung precariously over huge lava lakes, his wings stretching out to balance him and some ender pearls handy just in case. 

The portal to the tundra couldn’t come sooner, and Phil was almost looking forward to the bleak weather that came with the Northern settlements. The land that was owned by the Esempi was rather temperate, perfect conditions for living in, but Phil and Techno lived far from that damned kingdom.

His exhaustion didn’t help the slight nausea that often came with travelling across dimensions, causing him to almost fall face first onto snow-covered netherrack, until he quickly regained his balance and began the trek towards the house. Too tired to fly, Phil slipped on his snow spikes that he had taken off for his brief visit to the Esempi and trudged home.

After only a few minutes of travelling, he already felt chilled to the bone, his thin clothes he had opted to wear for the visit not enough to withstand the freezing climate. Desperately, he imagined walking through the door and collapsing by the fireplace. Techno would silently make him a nice, hot herbal tea and then bandage his wounds from the… visit to the Esempi. Truth be told, Phil was caught in the crossfire of a little scuffle on the Eastern border of the Esempi lands, some guards causing some ruckus behind the castle with some locals. He may have been recognised and may have shot some guards, but Techno didn’t need to know that. It had happened before, and had probably happened to Techno on the rare occasions that he dared enter the Esempi lands.

Before long, Phil was dragging his feet up the wooden stairs, relaxing into the sensation of warm, homely air rushing into his face as he swung the door wide open and stepped in. Techno was nowhere to be seen, but there were potions sat in the brewing stands, so he couldn’t be far away. Sighing, he sat down on the rug by the fireplace, melting into the warmth that spread into his fingertips. He was focused so intently on the feeling that returned to his numb hands, he didn’t notice the gentle tapping of Techno’s boots on the ladder as he returned from the first floor. 

“Hey Phil.” he announced simply, causing Phil to crack an eye open and smile at Techno.

The potions were then lifted out of the brewing stands and stored away, then Techno boiled some water for tea over the fire and grabbed the first aid stuff.

“It was nothing major, I’m mostly just tired from travelling.” Phil reassured Techno, “All that flying in the Nether has my wings aching like hell.” he laughed gently, slipping off his boots and resting them by the fireplace to thaw, ignoring the icy mess they left behind.

Techno simply hummed in response, sorting through some healing potions with his usual expression. The silence was welcome, gentle crackling of the fire and the sounds of tea being poured were the only things that punctuated the comfortable quiet. A hot mug of herbal tea was slipped into Phil’s hands and Techno came and sat near the fire, sharpening one of the knives they used to slice through food. 

“Do you want me to patch you up?” Techno asked softly, running his finger along the blade at an angle that wouldn’t cut him, but it was close enough to make Phil nervous, “I’ve got plenty of healing potions, but you might wanna nap before you take any of those.” Though healing potions were great, they took energy to work, something that he was running low on currently. 

Phil nodded, handing Technoblade the empty mug and slipping off his coat to reveal the cuts and bruises that littered his arms. There was a slightly deeper one in his shoulder where an arrow had dug into the flesh there, but other than that he was fine. The other man got to work almost immediately, brushing a wet cloth down the scratches on his arms and gently working out any debris in the shoulder wound. On his face was an expression of glaring intensity, and it shifted with slight anger and irritation. Piecing together the clues, Phil came to the conclusion that the blood seeping from his wound was triggering the voices that Techno had mentioned before, hence the slight anger in his eyes. He knew that he couldn’t do anything to help his friend directly, but Phil figured he should probably talk about something to try and distract the poor man.

“So, did anything interesting happen whilst I was gone? Have you tried speaking to Ranboo any more?” Phil enquired, keeping his tone light hearted and kind. 

Techno hummed in thought, pausing in his work, “He gave me an axe.” he then continued to gently wipe the wound in his shoulder, switching the bloodied rag for a dry cloth, holding it tightly on his arm.

“That’s nice! I’m guessing he did that because the Axe of Peace was lost in the whole… thing.” Phil chuckled, “Is it good?”

“Yeah, it’s fully enchanted netherite. The guy has a lot of free time from what I can tell, so I’m hopin’ I can persuade him to join me on a trip to find and raid a Woodland Mansion.” Techno quickly swapped the rag for a bandage, tightly wrapping it up but not so much so that it cut off the circulation. He was very good at this, unsurprisingly. When you get in as many fights as Techno, you learn how to deal with the effects. 

“You gonna go get some Totems?” Phil smiled up at Techno.

The other man simply nodded, taking Phil’s coat and hanging it up, then collecting some healing potions from the chests and handing one to Phil.

“It’s a pretty low level one.” Techno stated, “It shouldn’t take up too much energy, but I want to be sure that you’re okay, and that your shoulder heals correctly.” he paused for a moment, glancing out the window towards where Ranboo had built his shack, “You don’t have any other major injuries, right?” 

Phil laughed, and shifted slightly so his feet could warm up more, “Nope, only a few scratches. Other than the shoulder, the only thing that hurts is my wings.” Phil knew what he was doing, and what he wanted. The flight in the nether had been long and exhausting, and his feathers were probably in need of a preen.

“Fine.” Techno drawled, “Fine, I’ll preen your wings.”

Phil laughed, stretching his striking green wings out to their full span, sighing in the slightly painful sensation, “You know me too well!” Techno sat silently behind him, “It really has been a while since my last preen, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it.” Techno grumbled, gently carding his hands through the feathers on Phil’s back, “Don’t fall asleep, okay?”

He nodded, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of Techno’s hands softly smoothing out bent feathers. For all the man’s violent tendencies, he was actually very even tempered and patient. He would sit for hours and gently correct every feather on Phil’s wings with a kind of intensity that he rarely sees from anyone else.

The activity of preening Phil’s wings had become a kind of tradition whenever the two men lived together, in the Antarctic Empire and now, since Phil didn’t really trust anyone else but Techno with his wings. 

It must’ve been therapeutic to Techno, since whenever the man got stressed out or returned from a particularly hard fight, he would offer to preen Phil’s wings. He would never turn down such an offer, of course, especially with how calm Techno would be afterwards.

Techno had moved on to the more outer feathers of Phil’s wings, carefully running his calloused fingers down each feather to smooth the stray fibres down, and righting any bent feathers with enviable patience. Phil focused on the wonderful sensation, the chill inside of him finally dissipating and giving way to a homely warmth. Having your wings preened was akin to someone combing their fingers through your hair, only with more intention. Wings were also very sensitive, so every little mindful pull was felt as Techno slowly worked his way across Phil’s other wing. 

Eventually, the pulling faded out into just Techno running his fingers through feathers, occasionally stopping to correct a feather. Phil was already half asleep, a content smile spread across his face.

Without any warning, Techno began to carefully massage the aching muscles in Phil’s wings, causing him to suck in a breath.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” Techno said without stopping his massaging. Phil nodded, relaxing into the strong sensation, willing to feel it all. His flight muscles were tender, but if he just left them it would take too long for the pain to fade. He knew that after a good massage, he could wake up a few days of rest later and feel refreshed, especially with the assistance of a healing potion.

Techno dug a firm knuckle into a tender spot, and Phil flinched slightly, “Ouch, that one's a bit-” the pressure was lessened, but didn’t stop, “Just be careful around that bit, okay?”

“Of course.” Techno assured him, lightly rubbing the sore spot with care and intention. It was blissful, and Phil was ready to fall asleep any moment now, the only thing keeping him awake being the intense sensation of the aches being massaged out of his back. 

Once the almost painful massaging faded into light sensations, Phil found himself edging into sleep, slipping somewhere between conscious and not, too tired to even tell. Techno must’ve noticed that, since the pressure stopped and was replaced with a gentle shaking on his shoulders.

“Phil? Do you want to drink the healing potion before you go to sleep?” Techno asked softly, retrieving the healing potion from the ground. 

He nodded sleepily and attempted to sit up slightly, trying to stay awake long enough to at least drink the potion and get changed. The potion was handed to him, and he drank it without hesitation, immediately feeling more tired, if that was even possible. At this rate, Techno would have to carry him up the ladder and deposit him in his bed. Phil was supposed to be the older and more responsible one, it would be humiliating to be carried to bed, so he tried with all the willpower he had left to stand and stumble over to the ladder. Already regretting the decision to not put stairs in when he moved in, Phil began to pull himself up the first rung, barely aware of Techno chuckling to himself.

“G’night.” he muttered sleepily, swaying slightly from where he was hanging onto the ladder. Gosh, he felt so ready to just fall… asleep…

~ * ~

Techno chuckled at the exhausted man who had flopped backwards off of the ladder. It was a bit silly to try and climb a ladder in his state, but sleep deprivation doesn’t do much for logic, so it probably seemed like a good idea in Phil’s delirious state. It was a good job that Techno had been spotting him, since without him Phil would have surely hurt himself by collapsing onto the stone floor instead of into Techno’s arms. 

He shifted the sleeping man so that he could climb the ladder, finding that it was rather awkward to try and climb a ladder one-handed with an avian man in the other hand, but like always Techno managed to do something that any other person would probably give up on. He looked down at his sleeping friend as he pulled the blankets over him, feeling a content smile tug at his lips. Everything was always so peaceful in the time during and after preening Phil’s wings, and Techno wished that he could muster the confidence to ask more often, but alas his brain, and the voices, called him weak for doing so. Without the call of the voices, Techno felt wonderfully calm and at peace with himself, something that seemed much more rare as time progressed. He relished in the calm, knowing that all he could do was to appreciate the good times and pull through the bad. 

Just looking at Phil made him want to flop onto his bed on the other side of the room and conk out for twelve hours straight, but if Techno wanted to do that he had to sort out the day room and get changed first.

He carefully sorted through potions and the first aid kit, throwing a couple of used rags into a heap to be washed some time tomorrow. Boots were neatly left at the door, his shawl hung up next to Phil’s robes, his shirt replaced with a soft cotton one and his leggings switched for loose cotton pyjama pants. Techno loosened his braid and let his pink hair flow out freely, then fell onto his bed, sighing into the relaxation that washed over him. 

Within minutes, he was fast asleep, joining Phil in sweet unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want wings. i want wings so bad. it would be so epic to have wings.  
> I've also got a super long oneshot that's nearly finished, I think imma post it here. Might not tho...  
> byee!


	7. Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo Dystopian AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Tubbo come across a strange man in the woods who threatens them with a sword then becomes their older brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a request I just wanted to write dystopian AU. In this AU, the water level has risen high enough to flood most low lying land, leaving the lone survivors to traverse swamps, marshes and shallow lakes in search of food and clean water.  
> Also, I am getting to the requests, just... Slowly lmao

There was not meant to be water everywhere, but the lake covered fields nonetheless. Cold, but not fresh, air carried stifling mist. 

Tufts of plants poked their last strands of grass over the water in a fruitless attempt to escape the flooding. They were dead and black.

White water stretched over as far as the eye could see, silhouetting shrubs and bare tree branches. All the plants had given up, strangled by the floods and their corpses left preserved in stark, black lines. 

It wasn’t bright. The fog muffled the horizon, blending the grey sky and grey water into one, huge, monotone smear. The sun was low in the sky, casting a dirty yellow into the mist, swirling in the water. You could see it, the perfectly round disease-yellow sun. Though not white, it looked like a moon, only bright and ugly. It had hung itself in the sky, dead like the plants. 

There was a mound in the lake, accompanied by a few paddle boats and a shelter. Discoloured plastic bobbed gently in the lake, logos peeling from the boats, long forgotten. Inside were a few possessions, the oars and a long fishing pole in one. There were no fish to catch in the lake.

From the makeshift shelter emerged a boy. Old canvas and tarpaulins were pulled aside as he left the small tent, stretching in the morning air. Though he was young, his eyes were tired and hands scarred.

Another boy joined him, with brown hair, smiling sadly. They hugged once, gripping the other’s threadbare clothes, then started on taking down their shelter.

By the time the two boys finished taking down the shelter, the yellow stain in the sky had receded to a bleak grey, the ugly sun cowering under layers of fog and clouds. They climbed into a paddle boat each, rowing from the mound and over the flooded meadows.

The mist doesn’t lift. It stays, stifling and eerie, laying low as the two boys row alone across the barren countryside. 

“How long have we been looking for?” The brown haired one asked, stopping his rowing and glancing at his friend. 

The other boy swatted a fly away, “Can’t tell if I can’t see the sun.” he snapped, running a single hand through his dirty blonde hair and taking off the large, grey and black leather coat he had been wearing, setting it down with contrasting gentleness. 

The brunette followed, stripping off an old hoodie but leaving on a faded green scarf. He flexed his grey fingers, watching them turn yellow, then red. Gloves encased his palms, though they were worn and dirty from the rowing.

“I’m hungry.” the brunette complained, wrapping an arm around his rag swathed torso. 

There was no acknowledgement from his friend, he just continued to row.

Not after long, the boys arrived at a hill, poking up above the water level, the land extending into the mist. A couple of canoes were pulled up onto the bank and tied to a tree trunk. 

“There might be people here, be careful.” the blonde boy warned as they jumped into the shallows and waded through the silt and onto the bank. Both of them were wearing knee high rubber boots, so the water simply rolled off as they hiked up onto the hill.

“It goes on for ages!” the shorter boy shouted excitedly.

“I told you to be careful.” he scolded.

Crunching dead plants and the few living underfoot, the two boys came across a camp with a firepit in the middle and a well made shelter opposite. There were logs split next to it, embers glowing in the safety of large stones and a wonderful smell of food wafting from the camp.

The blonde pulled a hunting knife from the sheath on his belt, under the heavy greyish brown trench coat, and poised himself for a fight. His friend joined him, a large axe unbuckled from its leather pouch in his hands.

A man emerged from the shelter, tearing a piece of fish from his hands into his mouth, freezing upon sighting the two boys. He was dressed in similar ragtag clothes, dirt and grime lining his face and gloved hands, his hair long, tangled and curled but mostly pushed under a beanie. Eating the fish in his hand in one large bite, the man pulled a long, medieval style sword from a sheath on his belt, jumping from the small tent and towering over the two boys.

“What do you want.” he spat, looming over the blonde boy, who was wearing a hateful sneer, not paying attention to the shorter boy sneaking around behind them and towards the smell of cooked fish.

The blonde boy pushed up onto his tiptoes, limited by the boots he wore, and snapped, “Why do you have to be so god damn tall!” he took the seared edge of the knife he was equipped with and held it up to the man’s throat.

The man laughed, “Easy now.” he stayed tense and still as the long, blackened trees that surrounded them, “Just tell me what you want.”

Suddenly, the man whirled around and snatched the shorter boy by his hood, knocking both of the boys into a tree trunk and boxing them in with a glinting blade. The grin on his face tightened, his eyes slightly too wide and the dark grey scarf that hung around his neck swaying like a noose. 

“I’m Wilbur. Nice to meet you.” The man extended a hand encased in a black glove, exposing only the tips of his index finger and thumb. The material was frayed and grimy like everything.

The blonde boy’s lip curled in disgust, backed against the tree beside his friend, the six and-a-half foot giant peering down at him with an indecipherable smile.

“I’m Tubbo!” the brunette chirped obliviously with a bright smile, much to the surprise of the man.

A gust of sharp wind speared through the barren forest, ruffling the curls that gripped the tired face of the man, Wilbur. 

The blonde boy took the moment of hesitation to slink away from the tree, crawling over the swampish ground.

“Tommy, wait, he could help us!” the brunette, Tubbo, said, alerting Wilbur to the blonde’s desperate escape plan.

Another unsettling smile crawled onto Wilbur’s face, hitching into his gaunt cheekbones but never reaching his brown eyes.

“Could you help us?” Tubbo asked, his dark green eyes wide and naive, the grey sky and tall, black trees reflecting in the sparkling innocence. Though there was melancholy and grief masked expertly behind the confused air, a longing for something he never had.

The manic smile softened into something a little more genuine, “I can try.” Wilbur said, sheathing his strange sword and lending a hand to pull Toby up to standing. 

The sunset painted the grey sky with a fierce orange, burning brighter than the need to survive, wonderful behind the tall, thin trees. Wilbur was splitting logs, dressed in a shirt with rolled up sleeves, revealing his thin, tendon striped arms. The man resembled the trees he slept among: tall, dressed in black and thin, looking almost dead with the stubborn spark of life driving him on.

Around the firepit sat the two boys, hugging each other, Tubbo gripping onto the grey and black leather coat with startling strength.

“Why were there two canoes?” Tommy asked, staring into the fire.

Wilbur stopped the rhythmic splitting of wood to wipe his brow and glare at the blonde boy, “I’m waiting for him to return.” he answered cryptically, returning to the logs.

“Waiting for who?” Tubbo asked, childlike innocence and curiosity lining his voice. The fire spat a few sparks out into the air, a piece of ash floating up and landing gently on the hand of Tommy.

The tall man sighed, setting down his axe and sitting on the ground, grief lacing his brown eyes and his hands twisting around a thin strip of green fabric that he had pulled from his pocket.

“Phil.” the wind tousled the fabric, “He’s my old friend.”

“How long have you been waiting here?” Tommy asked, suddenly curious.

Wilbur bowed his head, “Not too long.” he rubbed at the light stubble on his chin, then pulled the beanie over his hair even more.

It got dark quickly, the sky went from grey to black in less than an hour, forcing Tommy and Tubbo to put up their crude shelter and hunker down for the night. Wilbur was only a few metres from them.

“Goodnight Tommy!” Tubbo smiled, burrowing into the ragged blankets that served as their duvet.

“G’night.” the other boy muttered, curling up and forcing himself to relax. Though faint, there was a third voice that echoed the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahaha that was fun.   
> (i wrote this for school so yeh)


	8. Ranboo & Techno Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo is sick and stuck in the snow, so Technoblade begrudgingly rescues him and takes care of the poor boi. Eventually, the voices pressure Techno into being a decent person and look after the shivering wreck on his spare bed. Ends with friendship cuddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "techno caring for ranboo"  
> (requested anonmously on 12 Jan)  
> Okay I might have taken some creative liberties with this one. I really wanted to write Techno caring for Sick Ranboo, and Phil is also there for some bits being Worried Dadza. I really needed to write some fluff ahh.  
> (may or may not have stayed up until ungodly hours)

Techno turned the netherite axe over in his hands for what felt like the millionth time. Ranboo had gifted it to him earlier that day, claiming it was ‘rent’ or something, and Techno had had, God forbid, emotions. 

The voices were mocking him, calling him ‘Tsundere’, whatever that meant. It was tiring, and Techno wasn’t in the best state of mind to deal with voices and emotions.

The teen was generally skittish, obviously absolutely petrified of him, which the voices seemed to find amusing and sad at the same time. He convinced himself he was indifferent, though truly he wished the kid would open up a little more. Phil talked to Ranboo more, though still very little.

Looking out of the wooden framed windows, a small shack came into view through the light snow. An Enderman hybrid cowered under it, darting around in the snow to harvest crops then sprinting back under the small shelter. It wasn’t a house, it was a fenced off snow shelter, more of a place to store wood or something to keep dry. He wouldn’t even allow Carl to live in the shabby barn that Ranboo seemed to inhabit.

Sighing, Techno decided that he would get Phil to do something. If the man knew about Ranboo’s living conditions, he would instantly chastise the teen and build a liveable home that wouldn’t fill with snow in any kind of mediocre storm. Returning to the axe, he found himself thinking about Ranboo much more as he carefully translated all the Galactic carvings that enchanted the axe with useful properties. It was an ancient method of improving the efficiency of weapons and the like, and this netherite axe was very skillfully enchanted with pretty much the maximum level of everything Techno could think of. There were even some he hadn’t heard of, maybe it was Ranboo being a hybrid that made him so good at enchanting. 

Next, he began brewing some invisibility potions. He was running low, and wanted a good supply just in case. His preparedness often gave him the edge to win battles.

It had been a full hour since Techno began brewing, and the snow had picked up, meaning he probably would have to shovel it off his front porch in the morning. Curious, he peeped out the back window to check on his odd neighbour, slightly worried by the lack of Ranboo and the large amount of snow piling up in his shack. By now it was almost dark, and the teen could be asleep or even dead. Techno hoped he was alive, if Ranboo died then Phil would probably get sad and blame himself. So, totally for Phil and not at all because he was genuinely worried for the kid, Techno traversed the tundra in his Antarctic uniform and made his way to the shack.

“Kid? You in there?” he shouted, hoping to just hear a ‘yes’ from some warm basement and then get back to potion brewing. Unfortunately, the potion brewing would have to wait, since there was a low groan of what was most likely pain instead.

His snow spikes hitched onto the ground as he ducked into the shelter, the rickety fences shielding no one from the wind chill, the thin layer of snow proving it. “It’s Techno, where are you?”

There was a shuffle, then a lanky teen rolled out onto the snow next to his boots from under his fucking bed. He hissed upon touching the snow, attempting to stand but ending up collapsing onto his bed instead. Techno decided that he was going to help this kid.

“Hi.” Ranboo rasped out, peering up at him from the snow-covered bed, burns sizzling on the Enderman side of him. There were more cuts on his arms and body in general, exposed by the tattered shirt he was wearing that seemed far too thin for the climate. He also looked tired and hungry in general, wrists far too thin, even by Enderman standards.

Without hesitation, Techno scooped the concerningly light teenager into his arms and proceeded to carry him out of the shack.

“W-what? What are you doing?” Ranboo asked blearily. 

“I’m takin’ you to my house, where it’s warm and I can heal you up.” he answered, trudging through the snow, “The snow burns you, right?” 

Ranboo nodded, and quickly had an icy blue shawl draped over him to shield him from said snow. It wasn’t because Techno was concerned for Ranboo, oh no, it was simply because it would be quicker to heal him if he didn’t have as many burns.

* * *

His body ached all over. With every step the large Piglin hybrid took, a jolt of pain seized through his bones, complimenting the burns that seared across the whole of his right side. Not to mention the hunger pains from his unsustainable farm, the tiredness that lodged itself deep in his core and the icy cold that never seemed to truly leave his body. 

At least there were people who truly cared about him, Ranboo thought. Like Phil, and Techno, who seemed to be finally showing a softer side. 

A surface level warmth rushed into his body, signalling the arrival at Techno’s quaint cottage. He was dumped on a spare bed, and a fire was stoked by the kind Piglin hybrid. 

“-gonna get you some healing pots and then-” Ranboo heard the fleeting words fade in and out. He was almost awake, and almost asleep. Sleep beckoned him- or was that death? 

“Hey, kid, you with me?” Techno gently shook his shoulder, offering a golden apple to him. Ranboo took it with his left (not burnt) hand and tried his best to eat it with shaky fingers and weak arms, too tired to protest. The magical apple filled him with the strength to stay conscious, and the strength to take a healing potion. 

He opened his heavy eyes, eyelids sticking shut and filled with sleep. Rubbing his eyes, Ranboo glanced around the bed he was perched on, recognising the surroundings as Techno’s cottage. Emotions from last night flooded his memory, reminding him of how much he owed the Piglin hybrid. 

“You awake, Ranboo?” Techno asked, descending a ladder and making sure to avoid eye contact. He nodded, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his hair, cringing at the grease that rubbed onto his fingers, leaving them smooth.

“Great. Phil should be arrivin’ soon, he sleeps in really late.” the man chuckled, lighting the fire and sticking his hand inside it to shuffle the logs. What the hell was this man? “I’m a Piglin hybrid, I’m immune to fire.” Techno drawled as if he heard Ranboo’s thoughts. 

“Ah.” Ranboo acknowledged, leaned back against the wall, “Makes sense.” 

In a flurry of cold air, an avian man burst through the door, one hand on his green bucket hat.

“Phil!” Ranboo cried, cracking a tired smile.

The man chuckled sadly at the state of the teen, “Hey mate.”

Phil settled into the warm air, hanging up his robe and hat, perching on the end of Ranboo’s bed.

“Techno, are you gonna make some breakfast for the kid?” Phil asked. The Piglin hybrid nodded, digging around in some chests.

He didn’t want to be taking any of their food, so he tried to decline the offer, “I’m fine, really, I’ve got carrots at home-”

Techno raised a single brow, and Phil gained a solemn look.

“Mate, you can’t survive on carrots alone.” Phil stated, handing him a plate with a wonderful looking boiled egg and some toast on it.

Sighing, Ranboo took the meal, truly grateful for the two men’s hospitality. He would have to make them both some gifts for this, he would need to give them so many netherite tools. He hated owing people.

“I can hear you overthinking, Ranboo.” Phil said, lifting a boiled egg into his mouth and eating it in one mouthful. He chewed it a few times, then continued speaking, “You don’t owe me or Techno anything, we’re just making sure you don’t die.”

“Yeah, but-” Ranboo tried to protest, when Techno interrupted him.

“Shut up, we wouldn’t be very good friends if we just let you die in snow.” he was turned away from the Enderman hybrid, focused on some brewing stands in the corner with much more intensity than one would usually pay to some potions. It gave the often intimidating Techno a more human side, his strange ways of showing that he cared about people. 

Ranboo flinched at the sharp words, though he knew the thought behind them was good, it still spooked him a little. 

Chuckles erupted from behind him, “Techno!” Phil doubled over, then turned to Ranboo, “That’s his way of showing he really cares about you.”

“Yeah…” he murmured, hunched over the empty plate, “Should I go clean this?” 

“Nah, don’t worry, I’ll do that.” Techno took the plate from him, “You’re the guest, and I’m guessin’ washing up is much more painful for you than anyone else.” 

Ranboo nodded, looking down at his hands, the right one smooth with scars from burns. He didn’t actually have the intricate spirals on his fingertips on his right hand, they were burnt far too often to ever heal properly. 

Standing up, the Enderman hybrid decided that he should probably return to his home, “I’m going to get out of your hair now,” he swayed gently, feeling lightheaded. It almost felt like he was floating…

Static danced in his vision and the world turned into a murmur of voices and sensations. It wasn’t black, just nothing.

“Hey mate, you’re okay.” he heard a faint voice say. His vision was yet to return, but he could hear the kind reassuring tone of Phil. Sensation faded in, and he was made aware of the strong arms that grounded him in place. Finally, the static receded and gave way to a shaky looking Techno, holding him ever so gently.

“I- I don’t- what just-” Ranboo uttered into the pale blue uniform.

His whole body felt fuzzy, like a kind of pins and needles but muffled.

“You are much too light.” Techno stated, setting him down onto the bed stiffly. He looked terrified, Ranboo’s groggy mind observed.

Time passed with a strange blur, though it was one the teen was familiar with. He focused on the reassurances from Phil, until the man collected his coat and hat in a rush and hastily left the cottage. He probably had things he needed to do, Ranboo didn’t blame him. The piglin hybrid had given him a bottle of water, which he sipped lightly and watched Techno store potions with shaking hands. It had probably been around ten minutes since he fainted, and Ranboo was feeling about as good as before, which means ill and tired.

“Should I leave?” Ranboo asked quietly, half hoping that the other man wouldn’t pick up on it, though the sensitive hybrid ears twitched and Techno whirled around to face him.

“No. You’re ill.” he said, then sighed gently, “Fine, fine. I’ll be nice to the boy.” he drawled, as if he were talking to someone else.

Suddenly, Ranboo found himself wrapped in a soft blanket, the warmth it provided causing him to reflexively sigh. Techno smiled at him, expression oddly soft and caring.

“The voices were gettin’ angry at me for leaving you alone.” he picked up the bucket of water and set it over the fire to boil, “So now I have to be a good person, or they’ll be angry.”

Ranboo raised a single eyebrow, “Okay? That’s a good thing, I guess?” he didn’t have time to carry on speaking, since he was immediately scooped up again by Techno and dumped into a pile of pillows the man had skillfully built on one side of the bed. He wasn’t about to complain though.

Under all the blankets and pillows, Ranboo was still shaking like a leaf frustratingly, and the next thing he knew he had a mug of hot cocoa slipped into his hands.

A violent tremor ran through his body, sending droplets of hot chocolate over the blankets and pillows, which was noticed by the observant Technoblade.

“Oh.” Ranboo said, staring down at the stains as if they would fade away if he glared at them long enough. God, he couldn’t even drink hot chocolate without causing someone else some kind of trouble. Techno had been so kind to him, he didn’t have to rescue him or take care of him, and the only way he’s repaid the man is by causing a mess on his spare bed because he can’t hold hot chocolate without shaking and spilling it all over the lovely pillow fort he’d made him-

“Hey, uh, chill.” Techno said awkwardly, taking the hot chocolate from Ranboo’s hands and setting it down on the floor, shifting to sit opposite him on the bed, “It’s fine, we all get sick sometimes. I know Phil’s a horrible person when he’s sick.” his hands were gripped firmly.

“I- I’m so sorry, I-” Ranboo stammered, hugging one of pillows into his chest.

“You cold?” Techno asked, retrieving the mug from the floor. Shakily, he nodded, wiping a stinging tear he hadn’t even noticed.

In a flurry of movement, Techno wrapped him a huge hug, his body radiating warmth. Ranboo buried himself in the cotton shirt that Techno wore around the house, accepting the sudden contact with open arms. He felt so safe here, in the tundra far away from the SMP and L’Manburg, wrapped in pillows, blankets and Technoblade.

“You tell no one, okay?” Techno murmured, though the threat was empty, “Can’t be tarnishin’ my brand.”

Ranboo hummed, going limp in Techno’s arms, tired from the illness and unfamiliar happiness that being hugged incited. The feeling of finally having a few friends in the world.

This time, he fell unconscious without fainting, drifting into a content sleep.

  
  


* * *

Phil burst through the door, expecting to see Ranboo shivering on the bed like a wretch and Techno awkwardly sorting through chests, and was instead met with the two friends collapsed, asleep on the bed in a wonderful fort of soft. He smiled, glad that Techno finally was warming to their neighbour, and happy for said neighbour since Phil had never seen him this relaxed.

From the pile of cushions, a soft sound began to resonate. Was Ranboo purring?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was okay, and I'm really sorry for the delay! I'm picking and choosing some requests, but I will try to get them all done in some kind of chronological order.  
> also the ending im gonna sob i needed to write this so much


	9. Ranboo Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo remembers something that he forgot for a reason, blocking it out the moment it flashed into his mind. Unfortunately, that is much too late, and he spirals into a panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people! This one is a very short, very heavy themed vent fic. I am writing from personal experience, and am using this as a coping mechanism, so be warned that this might be triggering for some people.  
> Hope you all enjoy, and take care of yourselves! (thought there was a little too much nice things in here so I wrote a sad thing for yall)
> 
> CW: Panic attacks, mentions of self harm

There was an annoying cut on his lip, and Ranboo was starting to get frustrated. When would it just heal? Maybe he should stop running his teeth along it, but he was so bored, so he often found himself running his teeth along the little cut on his lip.

He put a hand to his lip, ignoring the sting, and grimaced at the blood that smeared over his finger. 

Instead of opening wounds on his lips, Ranboo decided to focus on what he could remember. Pulling out all of his memory books, he surveyed the current information, hoping to get some more crumbs of memories and little flashes of emotion. 

His mind scoured the broken lands of his memory, picking out little things he remembered and analysing them for new things. There was a new memory - it flashed into his mind for a split second, his brain blocking it out, forgetting it, the moment it did. 

A visceral fear shot through him, throwing him down onto his knees. Ranboo brought his hands to his face, waiting for the moment to pass. It didn’t, only getting worse, as the primal fear built in his shuddering body, forcing broken words to spill nonsensically from his mouth. 

“Oh, god. Oh god, oh shit.” he uttered, feeling tears burn down his face. The familiar surroundings of his room faded away, and the forgotten memory teased him with horrifying terror.

The only thing he could feel was panic, it was stronger than anything he could remember feeling, and it consumed him, taking over his weak body and tearing through his damaged mind.

He was breathing much too fast, he was losing all control, the forgotten memory haunted him as he hyperventilated on the cold, lonely floor of his shack.

Images sunk into his mind, there was black, there was white, there was grey, colours mashing together, then a circle, a white circle, a smile-

The overwhelming fear and panic ripped through him, drawing a guttural, horrifying screech from the very depths of his mind. Ranboo was no longer hyperventilating, he was screaming and crying. He didn’t want anyone to hear, he didn’t want people to see him like this.

Trying to silence himself, he only fed the panic as he realised he had lost all control over himself. 

The inhuman shrieks were wrung from his crumpled body, the image and the memory picking at his sanity like he picked at his old wounds. He wanted to get away, he didn’t want this to happen again, he didn’t want this to happen again, he didn’t want this to happen again-

In an attempt to ground himself, Ranboo ran his claw like nails down his cheek, almost sighing at the distraction. The sting felt so good against the animalistic terror that seared through him, that consumed him. 

It consumed him.

Not again, not again, not again.

(When did this happen before?)

He had to shut up.

(He had to shut up)

They would find him.

(They would find him[they would comfort him]and hurt him)

Not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go get a drink of water after that one!  
> also, thank yall so much for the insane support on this oneshot book! i will hopefully be in a better place to take some more requests soon, so keep an eye out for that!   
> sorry not sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment, they translate directly to my code and cause me to write faster!  
> -Joe


End file.
